His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. . " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. “Thousands! Ugh! And found it a worse slavery. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market.
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